


Something New

by xandrillia



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Childhood Memories, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Enemies, Happy Ending, Memories, Missing Scene, Music, Sad and Happy, Short & Sweet, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:41:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25737451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xandrillia/pseuds/xandrillia
Summary: Music, beating constantly throughout her life, although she doesn’t know the word for it at first. Then, it’s something more because it’s not just hers — it belongs to Adora as well, and between them, it only grows.Or: Catra, Adora, and music.
Relationships: Adora & Catra (She-Ra), Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 99





	Something New

**Author's Note:**

> *blows a kiss* for the gays  
> (the #s before each scene are their ages assuming they’re 16 (C) and 17 (A) at the beginning of the series, 19/20 at the end)

**One**

**13/14**

It’s a soft little noise, and the first time Adora had heard it she hadn’t known what Catra was doing, but she liked it, so she didn’t say anything. She stays quiet again now. Catra’s voice goes up and down and she stumbles at first, but the rhythm is sure and her voice steadies soon. There aren’t words, but she doesn’t need any. It’s soft and so _personal_ that Adora gets caught up in just sitting and listening to her, in awe of this sweet little form of art Catra has brought to the Fright Zone. Only after she stops does Adora realize that she’s been staring for far too long, completely caught up in her voice.

She looks away, blushing. She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to have heard Catra, but she did and now there’s not really any way to pretend she didn’t. She’d heard the melody for years, of course, but it was always quiet and tentative and private. Adora had never said anything before, but now she’s staring openly and she’s sure she’s showing too many emotions on her face, any one of which would get her in trouble on a normal day.

Today isn’t a normal day.

“Uh, sorry,” she whispers. Her cheeks burn red. Catra doesn’t respond and Adora keeps her eyes on the floor for a moment, but when she glances nervously up at Catra, she’s met with a teasing but gentle smile. Familiar.

“It’s called music.” Catra offers, calm. “Or singing. I’m not really sure what the distinction was.”

Adora smiles shyly. “I like it.”

“Me too.”

Adora doesn’t ask where she learned the word, aware of Catra’s unexplained absences scattered throughout their daily routine. Sometimes she missed training, but she always had a quick explanation that the sergeants didn’t buy, but they didn’t fight against it, so Catra rarely met the consequences. Sometimes, Adora wondered if their bosses were a little jealous of her freedom. Whenever she returned from her trips, out of breath and looking a little more alive than when she’d left, Catra would wink at Adora and take her place for the next sparring match, and that would be it.

Today, Catra is willing to offer more. Adora doesn’t know what the difference is, but she thinks it might have something to do with the look she’d seen on Catra’s face the other day. They’d been working on strategies, not so much as together as just in the same vicinity, enjoying the other person’s company. When Adora had looked up to ask Catra a question, her breath had caught in her chest at Catra’s expression. It was there and gone — lightning. For a moment, Catra had been completely unguarded, leaning her chin in her hand and watching Adora work. Adora knew Catra better than anyone, but for a moment she hadn’t recognized the girl before her. She looked at Adora in the same way Adora studied the moons at night, when the sky was clear and the wind warm off the desert. Her gaze on Adora had felt like the rush after a sparring match, filled with exhilaration and pride. Almost immediately, the look changed from that something else — wistful? fearful? — to surprised, and then Catra had laughed at Adora’s shock like she herself hadn’t been doing anything remarkable a moment before.

Something new.

Adora wants to know what that look meant. Sitting in the barracks, listening to Catra’s voice, she thinks she’s beginning to understand.

Too soon, the other cadets come in.

Too soon, Catra’s voice fades again.

Too soon, there’s an ache in Adora’s chest, like someone has reached in and pulled out something vital. Only after knowing music was she able to feel its loss, but Adora doesn’t mind the hurt, as long as she can hear her voice again.

**Two**

**C 16**

When Adora leaves, she doesn’t know how to react.

It’s been a month, and Catra knows Adora is gone. She wants to follow, but there’s something that holds her back — maybe it’s the jarring shock of being left behind. Maybe it’s that she wants to prove herself. Maybe it’s that she thought that she and Adora had had a home here, together, and Catra is trying to hold on and keep it upright until Adora comes back, naïvely believing in their old hopes and dreams.

Or maybe she’s just lonely.

For whatever reason, Catra shuts Adora out, memories and all. She doesn’t look at the drawings inside her locker from when they were kids. She snaps at anyone who mentions her name — even Shadow Weaver, once, although Catra decides not to do that again. She sleeps in her own bunk. She rolls her eyes at Adora’s old records in the training room.

Most importantly, she cuts out all music.

Usually, she finds a time for it, no matter how busy the week has been, how many training sessions they’ve had or how many hours they’ve put toward the Horde, always working and pushing and expanding Hordak’s empire.

Usually, she’s not alone.

Avoiding music isn’t difficult — usually the problem is knowing where to find it. But without Adora, Catra can’t even stand the mention of it. It just hurts too much.

**Three**

**A 17**

The first time Adora hears someone else’s music, she excuses herself from the party, goes up to her room in Bright Moon, and cries.

It’s not unexpected. From the first time she heard Catra’s music, Adora knew there was more of it out in the world — she just had to go and find it. And now, curled up in a ball on her bed, made for two people but only holding one, Adora wishes for a moment that Catra had never sung to her in the first place.

The moment the thought crosses her mind, she takes it back.

It doesn’t matter that they’re enemies now. It doesn’t matter that they’re on opposite sides of the war, that Catra has done unforgivable things and Adora has too, because she broke her own promises, didn’t she? Adora can’t forgive herself for that, so why should Catra? But right now, none of that is important, because no matter the cost, Adora would give anything just to hear her music again.

Her chest aches. She never wanted to find new music, not alone at least. She only wants what she can’t have. The familiar melody, the familiar voice, the familiar fluttering feeling in her chest.

She presses both palms over her heart, trying to fill the space there or at least relieve the pressure because there rests the weight of a thousand songs, each tearing a piece from her soul and leaving her out in the sun with nothing to protect her, but the burden is just too much to bear and Adora cries until she’s empty, cries until she can’t hear anything but the music in her head, whispering over and over again, and then, only with the memory of Catra’s music in her ears, can she finally, finally sleep.

**Four**

**14/15**

“Do you want to dance with me?”

“Yes.” The word is out before Adora considers it, and she backpedals quickly. “Actually, I, uh, don’t know what that is.”

Catra smiles. “It’s new — and fun. You’ll like it, if you can keep up.” Adora rolls her eyes but follows Catra out of the barracks, where they slip through the halls unnoticed. Adora bites her tongue to keep from asking too many questions.

Catra leads them to an empty warehouse at the edge of the Fright Zone, far from where their usual wanderings take them. The doors creak open. Lofty ceilings allow for a cool draft that relieves some of the day’s heat. In the desert, the cold is a blessing Adora relishes.

Flicking a switch, the emergency lights power on, lighting the empty main floor. The dust is undisturbed but for a single set of footsteps tracing the edge of the room — Catra must have scouted it out earlier in the day.

Catra holds out her hand in the center of the room. The low light outlines her in faded gold, the moons above her casting silver light down from above. Unlike Adora’s, Catra’s eyes are bright in the dark.

Adora steps forward. When she takes Catra’s hand, something warm flutters in her chest. She smiles, unsure of what to do next, but Catra steps up to her, toe to toe, and laces her fingers through Adora’s. Adora can’t really tell, but she thinks her friend might be blushing, and Adora doesn’t take the time to question whether she herself is, too.

Catra, shy. It’s a rare look on her, but Adora thinks it’s sweet. 

“So…” she trails off, raising an eyebrow.

“Just trust me,” Catra says, leaning to the side. “It’s like fighting, kind of, but more...peaceful?”

Adora tilts her head, confused. She knows the peace that comes after a well-won sparring match, but the fight itself was rarely anything but energizing for her.

“Just go with it,” Catra whispers, her voice soft. “Now, we count to three.”

“One-two-three?” Adora says the numbers in one breath, her voice rising at the end, and Catra laughs. Some of the slight tension disappears — this is normal. Teasing and being dorky, together.

“No, like — _one,_ two three, _one_ two three, _one_ two three…”

Catra leads like she was born to dance, Adora following in a mess of confusion and giggles. She steps on Catra’s feet and stumbles, but never lets go, one hand linked to Catra’s and the other pressed flat against her back. She’s careful not to get too close, although they’ve been closer than this before in training, because something about this is different.

Catra was right. It is peaceful, although Adora’s still getting the hang of it. They spin throughout the warehouse, and Catra’s counting turns to a hum. Adora only allowed herself to _really_ begin to listen to Catra’s music a year before, but now she listens closely every time, and today is no exception.

Following the music, Adora is suddenly able to breathe, a knot loosening in her chest she didn’t know was there. The music is familiar, and tied with dancing, it clicks. One moment she’s a mess, pitching and falling, and the next, she’s gliding, as graceful as Catra, sailing through the warehouse to their own music. Catra is familiar — they’ve fought together for years and grown up together, closer than anyone else on all of Etheria. They fit each other, matching their steps to their song, drifting together.

The song comes to an end, and they pause, standing close.

“That was nice,” Adora whispers. Catra smiles.

“Mhmm,” she agrees. Catra’s hand slips from Adora’s fingers and comes to rest against her waist as she steps forward, leaning into Adora and tucking her face over her shoulder. Adora doesn’t hesitate to pull her close, sliding her arms around Catra, somewhat nervously.

A small alarm goes off in Adora’s head — the same one that rings quietly whenever Catra is near, and loudly whenever they touch. She does her best to push it away, but the thought stays in her head unwanted.

_Dangerous._

Adora does her best to ignore it, focused instead on the gentle breath against her neck, Catra’s arms around her waist, their slight sway back and forth. The delicate vibration of Catra’s voice against her chest because she’s humming, although Adora doesn’t know when she started up the melody again.

Adora pushes the warnings aside, replacing them for a word she knows to be true.

_Safe._

**Five**

**C 17**

When Scorpia starts singing, she freezes.

It’s not that Catra doesn’t know what music is, like some of the other cadets and Force Captains, but Scorpia is just so... _loud_ about it. Which is good for her, Catra supposes, but the little part that music plays in Catra’s own life is private, quiet, and so closely tied to Adora that she can’t help but think of anything else.

She remembers the first time she heard singing.

She’s not supposed to remember, but she does, and that memory will never go away.

It was at home. Not the Fright Zone — that piece of junk wasn’t anyone’s home — but before that. There was a woman with blue eyes, a soft smile, and a sweet voice. Catra doesn’t remember the words, but she remembers the melody and the sensation, the way the lights over the woman’s head haloed her in gold.

So, no. Catra isn’t supposed to remember her mother, but she does and she never lets go.

Her second memory of music comes years later.

The line has spun through her head for so long that it’s only natural to share it with Adora, who knows Catra more than she would’ve ever thought possible. They’re young, and they don’t know much yet, but they’re learning friendship.

One thing Catra likes about friendship is how they’re always together, even when they’re apart. Catra will find herself thinking up a joke to tell Adora when they’re split into different training groups, or missing her when one of them stays late to practice a technique they couldn’t quite get during training hours. They sit on the same bed and talk for hours until the other cadets get annoyed and hush them, and even then they whisper after everyone else is asleep.

She likes being with Adora. It’s still simple then — Catra hasn’t started to feel that bright pain in her chest whenever she sees Adora, not yet — so it just makes sense for Catra to share her music with her.

Hearing Scorpia singing now, even if it’s not the same song, Catra can’t bear to live like this.

She overreacts, then, telling her that she’s no good (it’s a lie — she’s just too familiar, but she’s not Adora and no one can fill the empty space she left behind), but Catra can’t have someone singing around her all the time when it makes her panic like that, thinking only of Adora and getting all distracted and flustered. So, she cuts Scorpia off and pushes her away. Anything to keep the music out.

Anything to forget who she has lost.

**Six**

**A 18**

“Adora,” Bow starts, gentle but concerned. “We’re just worried. We don’t want you to get hurt, and Catra, she’s—”

“Dangerous,” Glimmer cuts in, confirming Bow’s words. “We can’t lose you, Adora. We need you.”

Perfuma nods, placing a hand on Adora’s arm. She is more sympathetic than most, thinking of the girl Adora used to be, who trusted Catra, while the others only think of their current enemy. “I understand you…” she trails off, but Adora knows what she’s trying to say. Perfuma takes a different path. “Trying to find her was a risk, and we need to be on the same page here. We have to work together.”

Adora passes a hand over her face, obviously worn out. “I know — I just thought I might be able to talk to her.”

The group stills. Across the room, Mermista breaks the silence.

“Did you?”

She shakes her head.

It’s Frosta who speaks now, curious for the whole group. “What did you want to say?”

Adora sighs. “Nothing. It’s — not important.” She waves her hands, obviously done with the shift in the conversation. “It doesn’t matter.”

“If you thought she would listen, it does.” Perfuma protests, gentle still. This time when Adora pauses, the alliance sees the words rolling around behind her eyes as she tries to frame her thoughts, to lay everything out so the others can understand.

“She asked me to defect with her, once.” Adora mutters, her eyes on the floor. She hugs her arms around herself, one hand against her neck as if chilled. The room, quiet before, goes absolutely still now.

“We were thirteen, maybe. She’d been doing really well in training — I mean,” Adora hesitates. “She’d always been a good soldier, but she started getting first in the sparring matches, which she usually didn’t care about, and her times got faster and she scored high in strategy.” Adora frowns again, her gaze unfocused. “She always scored high in strategy.”

“But...Shadow Weaver pulled her aside after training one day, and I hoped it was a good thing, you know? She was always so mean to her. But then she didn’t come back for hours, and I found her on the roof, way up where we normally sat.” She sighs. “And then she asked me to defect. She was shaking and looked kind of…out of focus, I guess, but when she asked me I freaked out and shouted at her, but she just looked at me all disappointed and said she knew she shouldn’t have said anything.” Across the room, Bow and Glimmer trade a look. Through two years of fighting side by side and growing together, they’ve never heard Adora speak about her old friend like this. She hums to herself absentmindedly, three quick, quiet notes before she clears her throat.

“So…yeah.” Adora concludes. Her gaze comes back into focus. She looks up at the princesses gathered around the table. “I wanted to ask her to come back with us, here. I thought she might listen, because I was always the one holding her back.”

**Seven**

**C 18**

Her numbers aren’t adding up quite right. This would normally be fine, but it’s been a long week and she’s struggling to keep her head above the water. Entrapta is always nagging Catra about the importance of accuracy in data, but flaws in Entrapta’s numbers create explosions, where they only mean headaches for Catra.

Still, as she scrolls through the supplies list again, trying to find where the last box of supplies went missing, she interrupts the song she’s been humming to curse to herself for her laziness.

When it happens, it’s quick.

Blink and you miss it _(blink and she’s gone)_ , and the words are out before Catra even realizes she’s speaking.

She turns away from the main screen, frowning at the tablet in her hand. “Hey, Adora? Could you look—”

It’s a heavy blow.

Like dominoes, the events of the past week, month, years, leaning against each other for so long, come crashing down.

Catra’s voice is lost to the rafters of the Black Garnet chamber, a wave of sudden silence crashing over her and dragging her out to sea. It’s been a long time — _too long_ — and in all these years, Catra has never once forgotten that Adora was gone.

She sets down the tablet, blood rushing in her ears. There’s no one to see her when she takes off her mask and sits against the wall, tipping her head back. There’s no one there when she can’t stop thinking about running through the corridors, squeezing through the vents during hide and seek, stealing ration bars and picking fights with the older soldiers. She tries to stay afloat in her own mind, grasping at her most recent memories, but even those memories are stained by Adora’s absence.

There’s no one there.

Catra presses her hands to her eyes, trying to steady her breathing. She pushes the back of her hand across her face, trying to stop the tears as they fall, but her hands are shaking and her breath is ragged. When she can’t stop thinking of blonde hair and blue eyes, easy jokes and secret smiles, the emptiness threatens to swallow her whole.

Eventually, she gives in.

Drowning in her own memories, Catra lets herself sink.

**Eight**

**15/16**

She hums quietly as she wraps the bandage around Adora’s wrist, who grimaces. She’d attempted a new maneuver during a match with Lonnie (but had screwed it up in a way Catra didn’t understand) and ended up with a sprained wrist for it, but the sergeants aren’t ones to let an injury pull a fighter. Now they’re in the infirmary, Adora sitting on the edge of a table with Catra standing in front of her as she attempts to fix the damage.

The room goes quiet as Catra pauses her music for a moment, suddenly aware of Adora’s silence. When she looks up, Adora has her eyes on her, somehow both at once far away and completely, totally focused on Catra, and she looks so calm and easygoing — Adora, who can’t relax to save her life. Adora, who has never looked at her like this before.

Catra’s hands still.

Adora tilts her head a little. She’d taken her hair down when they entered the infirmary, complaining of a headache, and now gold strands spill across her shoulders. Her eyes are still far away when she raises her free hand, laying it gently on the side of Catra’s face.

Catra holds her breath.

Adora’s thumb draws a lazy line across her cheek.

Holding Adora’s hand between them, the tape forgotten, something flutters in Catra’s chest. She recognizes this emotion if not the expression — in the barracks last week, she’d opened her eyes to see Adora far away, eyes on Catra. Completely serious, completely enamored.

Catra leans gently into Adora’s touch. The seriousness flickers away for a moment, something like a smile crossing Adora’s face for half a second. They’re level with each other, with Adora sitting on the table, and Catra is suddenly focused on how close together they are, one of Adora’s heels tucked behind Catra’s knee. Adora holds her gaze and Catra can’t hold her breath anymore, so she lets it go in a quick breath and leans forward, and Adora meets her halfway.

She tightens her hands over Adora’s as Adora slides her palm to Catra’s neck, leaning in to the kiss. Adora smiles against her mouth. There’s a moment where Catra can’t feel anything but peace, but too soon her heart skips and she pulls back, eyes inches away from Adora’s.

Adora tips her forehead against Catra’s, a teasing smile sliding onto her face. Her voice is low when she speaks, appreciative. “What was that?”

“I—” Catra takes an uneven breath. Her heart hammers in her chest and her hands would be shaking if she weren’t holding Adora. “Um, I saw some cadets do it.”

“Yeah?” her voice is hoarse.

Catra nods, pulling back slightly. Inches widen like miles between them, and she’s never felt distance this acutely before. It scares her.

She fixes her eyes on Adora’s hand, glad to have something to focus on. The silence between them stretches, growing as Adora holds words back, still smiling that stupid grin.

Eventually, Catra gives in. “What?” She pretends to be bothered, but she’s sure Adora can tell it’s a farce.

Adora shrugs, leaning back on her free hand. Her feet swing lazily on either side of Catra’s hips. “Nothing. It was just nice.” Words from their first dance, a memory burning bright for both of them.

Catra rolls her eyes, still blushing. When she’d spotted the cadets last week, her thoughts had immediately turned to Adora. It was unfamiliar territory, but Adora was familiar and Catra couldn’t stop thinking about the two soldiers and whatever _that_ had been.

Adora leans forward as Catra places the last bandage, smoothing the tape. She pauses, eyes still down, although she can feel Adora watching her. Catra knows she crossed some kind of line — the feeling that’s been growing in her chest for the past two years burns harsher than ever now, almost enough to halt her breathing and send her head spinning.

Whatever she’d felt moments ago, that buzzing that matched the feeling before a storm, metal on the air and electricity burning in the distance, is back. Catra tries to ignore it, but she can tell Adora wants to say something again, so she repeats her sigh.

“Just say it, Adora.”

Adora giggles and scoots forward. She hops down from the table, her feet landing on either side of Catra’s, pressed too close to her, and they’ve been this close a thousand times before but now is different and new and the pain in Catra’s chest burns bright, sharp, so when Adora reaches for her face and leans in again, Catra pulls back sharply without thinking, averting her gaze. Adora freezes, her hand caught between them. It hovers there for a moment before she drops it to the table behind her, fingers curling in on themselves. Catra’s face burns where the memory of her touch lingers.

“Uh— sorry,” Adora whispers, cheeks burning red. She doesn’t know why Catra had started the...whatever that was earlier but pulled back now, but Adora gives her space. After a moment, Catra relaxes, leaning forward to take Adora’s hand and adjust the tape on her wrist. Catra shakes her head a little, clearing her throat.

“You’re fine,” she says, voice quiet. Adora tilts her head, questioning but unsure of how to phrase her words. Her hair glints in the fluorescent lights. Catra nearly reaches out to tuck the loose strands behind her ear, but she stills the movement before it begins.

“You said some cadets did that?” Adora asks eventually. She’s taller now that they’re standing, and Catra keeps her head down so Adora can’t really see her expression.

She nods. “Yeah, but they—” she cuts off, blushing redder, which Adora wouldn’t have thought possible.

“But…?”

“Like — with more hands, I guess?”

Adora grins sideways, sliding her hand slowly against Catra’s waist. Adora moves cautiously, giving the other girl plenty of time to move back or rebuff her, but Catra stands completely motionless. “Like this?”

She gives a terse nod, her eyes on Adora’s other hand between them. Adora isn’t smiling now, face serious again as she closes her eyes, leaning against Catra, who sighs in return and places her hands gently around Adora’s waist in a hug, arms tightening. Catra ducks her head into Adora’s shoulder, more intimate than they’ve ever been, she thinks — something new, again. She exhales slowly, Adora’s hair fluttering against her breath.

A thousand times being this close, always familiar, and now, something unknown. Catra thinks of the look on Adora’s face. Adora thinks of the pulse flickering in Catra’s wrist, escalating as Adora’s hand slid along her waist.

Catra hums quietly, picking up the melody where she left off.

 _Maybe,_ each thinks quietly to herself, _new is good._

**Nine**

**A 20**

She jogs backward at the back of the group, keeping a watch on their 6. Bow and Mermista lead in front, ready to fight. Perfuma and the other jog between the two groups. Adora wishes Glimmer were here, but knows she’s busy with her duties on the throne, although her stress is spreading across the whole alliance.

“You okay?” Perfuma whispers, dropping back to speak with Adora. They stop as Bow holds up a hand, move again when Mermista appears from the corner ahead and beckons them forward.

Adora blanches, surprised anyone had noticed. “I’m fine,” she lies, waving Perfuma’s concern away. She pauses a moment, and her voice softens when she speaks again. “But thanks.” Perfuma nods, unconvinced, and the group moves forward.

She hears it then, when the others are two steps ahead of her. “Go,” she urges, pushing Perfuma forward. She checks over her shoulder to the hall behind them, hoping she imagined the voice and wishing desperately that it was real.

“Adora!” Bow hisses from the front of the group, but she’s already sprinting down the Fright Zone corridor, disappearing around a corner with a last quiet call that she’ll meet them at the skiff bay.

Bow shakes his head, exasperated, but they have to move forward, even down one. Adora isn’t She-Ra anymore, but they all know she’s capable of taking care of herself.

Well, she is when she’s not running recklessly into battle, but Bow has to hope this is different.

On the other side of the Fright Zone, Adora is chasing shadows.

She clambers up a wall to a ventilation shaft, pulling off the cover and slipping through. She places the cover over the opening behind her, unable to screw it back in place but hoping that it won’t fall and blow her cover.

Inside, she follows a familiar route. Entrapta isn’t the only one who uses the vents as transportation — as kids, Adora and Catra would sometimes sneak away from Shadow Weaver or the other soldiers this way, finding their way to the edge of the building and sneaking out from there.

Now, Adora has a different path in mind. She follows the voice, humming a melody she’s heard a thousand times before.

She ends up in the barracks. The moment her feet land on the floor, she knows she’s alone.

Catra isn’t here.

Adora ignores the twinge of disappointment she feels at the realization, instead walking to stand by her old bunk. It’s weird, being back here after so long in Bright Moon.

She hesitates. The others will be at the control center by now, but she has a little time before their job is done. She can meet up with them still if she takes a little time to herself.

God, she’s tired.

This war has shaped her entire life — she doesn’t know what it is to live without it. Adora hesitates only a moment before laying down in the bunk, closing her eyes and pressing her hands to her face. She instinctively rolls to her side and tucks her feet up under her, leaving space at the foot of the bed.

She’s so, so tired.

Adora opens her eyes, scared that she might actually fall asleep if she doesn’t focus. She has a job to do. She needs to get back to the group, stay on track. She can’t afford to get distracted mid-mission.

In front of her eyes: the old drawings she and Catra had sketched as kids.

The paint is marred, streaks running diagonally through the portraits. Catra’s claws, probably turned to the painting in anger. Adora touches the paint gently, flecks drifting from the wall. Tears cloud her eyes and she turns her face into the pillow, trying not to let her emotions get the better of her.

She has to go.

Adora presses a hand to the wall, careful not to peel away any more of the paint. When she leaves the barracks, her eyes are clear, but her heart lies a little more broken in her chest, sharp points scratching at her. Adora will deal with that pain another day: she can’t focus on what was. She just has to keep moving.

**Ten**

**C 19**

Infinite space, surrounding Prime’s ship in every direction, but Catra can only watch for Etheria. Some days, she finds herself paused by a window, eyes locked on her home. Everything in Catra tells her that there’s nothing there for her, not anymore, but she still misses it. When she notices her own hesitation, she does her best to shake the thoughts away and keep moving. It’s best not to wonder what could have been.

One night, she tries to talk to Glimmer, but the clones are too near. She wanders the halls instead, trying to plan her next step while waiting for the clones to move.

Eventually, night falls. She’d been surprised but grateful the first few days when the lights dimmed across the ship, leaving the stars the illuminate the ship’s labyrinthine passageways. Now she wanders, lost, waiting for something to happen so she knows what to do.

Pacing the halls of Prime’s ship, Catra is more alone than ever before.

When she opened the portal, she thought that was it — she’d hit rock bottom, and she didn’t have to live through the disappointment and fear that came with falling — but it had gotten _worse_. When Adora had stared her down, anger burning in her gaze, Catra had frozen. That look, from the girl she loved (although she tried not to think about that, not in those days), had stopped her breath and sent her head spinning. She was certain: there wasn’t a way home.

Adora’s anger was toward Catra — her actions, her choices, and the consequences — all of it justified.

And still, she fell further. _It’s for your own good, darling._ Double Trouble’s words, clarifying everything she thought to be true.

_We both know this was never what you really wanted._

They were right, but there wasn’t a way back. And then they’d left her there, alone again with nothing but memories and regret. And then Glimmer had appeared. Catra respected the queen, even though they were on opposite sides of the war, and upon seeing her, Catra had only wished it would end.

It had just gotten worse.

Then the light had come and Hordak was gone and Catra was saving Glimmer’s life, if just for a little while. She doesn't know now that she will make the same choice again in the near future, sacrificing herself for the queen and her friends.

She’s glad Glimmer is here, although she feels guilty admitting that for more than one reason, but at least she isn’t alone. Not completely, like she has been for so long.

Talking with Glimmer, Catra remembers her past without fear for the first time in years. They talk about Bright Moon, about the Fright Zone, about Adora and Bow and the war. About the king and late queen, and what more Prime could possibly want from them.

When she makes the decision to save Glimmer, Catra can only think of Adora. Adora’s eyes closed as Catra runs her fingers through her hair, humming softly. Letting her guard down. Just...existing together, knowing that everything will be okay as long as they stick together.

As long as they stay together.

On the ship, Catra lets herself realize how much she misses Adora. Before, she’d tried to mask that pain with anger and hatred and even indifference at Adora’s betrayal, but speaking with Glimmer, there’s only sadness.

That and regret, for who she could have been.

After a few months, she tries not to think about it. Then, she can’t think at all because it’s not her own voice commanding her body, filling her with purpose. It’s someone else, and she can’t fight back.

The worst memory is from that same ship.

She’s walking through the endless corridors, doing something or other under Prime’s command, unthinking due to the chip on her spine. Somehow, she becomes aware of a quiet voice, nearly lost in the cavernous passageways. At first, she doesn’t recognize it as her own.

Then, everything is too bright and violent and burning hot, green flashing through her vision as she struggles for breath, trying to ground her mind to her body, trying not to let herself fall away from it all.

She fights.

And then, she’s fighting Adora. Catra isn’t sure what exactly had happened to get Adora onto Prime’s ship, but she _can’t_ let Adora get in any more danger because of her, and Adora, _why did you come back?_

She holds on as long as she can. She fights, longer than she knew she was capable of, but she isn’t strong enough. Not in the end. Her mind clears and the music cuts out, endless background noise finally ceasing, the last tether to herself.

And then she falls for real and everything else stops, too.

Then

 _Then,_ she wakes up and Adora is there, and there’s a tiny, tiny spark of hope in Catra’s chest that almost believes that she might be done losing herself.

That quiet little part of her hopes that, maybe, with Adora at her side, Catra can find what it is she really wants.

**Eleven**

**19/20**

The first few days on Mara’s ship, Catra tiptoes. She’s quiet. She exchanges polite words with the others, but only really speaks to Adora. Even then, she’s closed off and still afraid. She doesn’t pretend to be her former, confident self, and the switch is jarring, but Adora welcomes it.

For the first time in years, Catra is letting herself be seen.

She sings.

It’s subtle — Adora only hears it when she walks past Catra’s room, or when it’s just the two of them alone together — but confident, her voice sure on the melody. Adora wonders if the others have noticed the soft music, but she doubts Bow wouldn’t have said anything to her about it.

After so long without the quiet melody, Adora’s heart aches.

She brings it up one night, when it’s just Glimmer and her on watch in the cockpit. Entrapta had set them up with a tech pad to keep an eye out for Etherian signals, but other than that the ship runs itself. They find themselves sitting in quiet comfort, lights dim and the endless sky surrounding them. It’s almost possible to believe that the entire universe is at peace.

“Glimmer, have you...noticed anything recently?” Adora doesn’t know how to bring up Catra’s singing — it’s so personal, so close to both of them, but she’s filled with the inexplicable urge to know if Catra has shared her music with anyone else.

Glimmer smirks. “I’m guessing this is about Catra?”

Adora flushes red, suddenly defensive. “Wh—? Okay, I just—”

“Relax, Adora. I’m just teasing.” Glimmer smiles again, this time genuine. “She sang on Prime’s ship, too.”

“Really?”

Glimmer nods. “I honestly don’t think she realizes she’s doing it,” she begins, but pauses. Her voice changes, becoming something softer. “My mom used to sing that to me, when I was little.” Her gaze drifts out past the stars, past the universe in front of them. Adora relaxes at the expression on Glimmer’s face — there’s warmth there for Angella, and sadness, but there’s nothing of the anger and fear Glimmer had faced in the first weeks after her passing.

“I didn’t know you had music in the Horde,” Glimmer whispers, and Adora shakes her head.

“We didn’t. It was just her.”

Adora leans against the controls, turning the tune over in her head. She’d heard it for so many years in the Fright Zone — all from Catra — and had never once wondered at its origins. Adora assumed it was something Catra picked up from one of the other officers, or on one of her trips outside the Fright Zone, but a lullaby was...sweeter. Much more personal than Adora had ever expected.

“Where do you think she learned it?” Adora asks, but Glimmer only hums. For the rest of their shift, Adora can only wonder at Catra’s past, and who might have sung to her.

**Twelve**

**19/20**

“You’re different,” someone says.

“Bolder.”

“Relaxed.”

“Happy.”

At first, Adora was startled at the little words, said so quietly. She saw the looks people gave her, curious eyes flitting between her and Catra. The raised eyebrows at Catra’s presence. Their surprised expressions whenever Adora bit back with a remark sharper than Catra’s, no hesitation. Adora wondered what they meant, but she couldn’t pinpoint the exact change inside herself. After a few weeks of this, she’d let it go, focusing instead on more important things (like the quiet melody whispering through their room at night when Catra thought Adora had fallen asleep, or the fact that the war was over, and they were free).

The change was subtle, but not enough to go unnoticed. The first outright mention of it comes one night while their squad is hanging out in Adora and Catra’s room after Prime’s defeat, sitting quietly and just enjoying being together. The balcony doors are open and the breeze is gentle and cool, a contrast to the warmth she’d felt for so many years in the Fright Zone. It’s been a long day, and Adora’s eyes are sliding shut, when:

“I feel like we just met you again, Adora.”

“What?” Adora squints one eye open, turning to look at Bow.

He shrugs. “This just feels new. Like the first few days again.”

Catra, leaning back against Adora and reading, sets down her book. “Yeah,” she agrees, softly. Adora can’t see her expression.

“I don’t…?” her voice raises at the end, making the phrase a question. How could she just be meeting Bow again? They’ve been friends for years, and she doesn’t know what he means.

Glimmer cuts in for him. “He’s trying to say that we haven’t met _this_ you before. The…” she wiggles her fingers. “Relaxed one.”

“I’m relaxed.”

Catra laughs. She raises her hand to Adora’s face, smiling. “Duh. That’s what we’re trying to say.”

“I still don’t get it.”

Catra squeezes her hand. “We grew up in a war, Adora. That shapes people. It’s just good to see you not having to lead the alliance, or fight the horde or Prime or whatever’s threatening Bright Moon.”

Adora blushes.

“You’ve always been kind of quiet, too, you know?” Glimmer turns to Bow then, who nods agreement.

“You were more open with us, but sometimes you would just shut down and not talk. We didn’t even realize for the first year or so, maybe, but Glimmer brought it up and we realized what was happening.”

“I— what?” Adora shifts, and Catra sits up to look at her. “I never shut down.”

Catra laughs quietly. “It’s okay. I did it too.”

Glimmer rolls her eyes. “It’s obvious now why you did, but then—” Adora raises her hands in protest. She’s laughing a little but also confused, but Glimmer presses forward. “—you just missed Catra.” she scrunches her nose at Adora, bubbling with teasing laughter as she leans back into Bow.

Adora flicks her eyes between them and Catra. “I’m so confused.”

Catra rolls her eyes. “You were lonely, dummy. And now you’re not. That’s all.”

“Wow, way to call me out, huh?” she says, but the words have no bite. They’re true. In the three years where she lost Catra, she’d reached out to her too many times only to come up empty. The pain in her chest had grown for too long, but now, only happiness sits in its place.

“Am I really different?”

“No, dummy. Just lighter.”

**Thirteen**

**23/24**

Adora sighs in contentment, watching the dance floor. She lost track of Catra maybe an hour back, and she’s sure she doesn’t want to know what Glimmer and Bow are up to. Sea Hawk and Mermista dance together under the colored lights, laughing. Perfuma and Scorpia smile and talk together at one of the abandoned tables.

Adora sinks into a chair, simply watching the room. Her friends shoot her smiles and raise glasses her way and she waves in response, but there’s something missing.

Some _one_ missing.

A beat later, Catra appears in front of her, offering a hand. “I hear the band’s got something you’ll like coming up,” she says. _There she is._ Adora takes her hand.

“You requested a song?” she asks, slightly incredulous. Catra laughs, bright and happy.

“It’s our own wedding, dummy. Pretty sure we’re allowed to choose the music.”

Adora rolls her eyes and stands, following Catra to one of the balconies looking out over the Whispering Woods. They can hear the music, here, but they’re far from the dance floor and have the moment to themselves.

In the distance, a new song picks up, something slow and quiet and steady. Adora smiles, tipping her forehead against Catra’s and closing her eyes. The familiar lullaby winds through the night, as light as Adora’s ever heard it. They stay like that for a while, not dancing exactly, just swaying and enjoying the other’s company.

Adora giggles. “We’re in love,” she whispers, her breath brushing Catra’s cheeks. She smiles.

“Yeah. It’s good.”

“Mhmm,” Adora responds, grinning stupidly. When Catra leans up on her toes to kiss her, Adora meets her halfway, sinking her hands around Catra's waist and knowing that together, anything is possible.

The night is peaceful, and the stars are bright. Their whole lives stretch out before them, intertwined to form a peaceful, perfect duet.

**Author's Note:**

> ahhhh i love them. anyway i don’t really know what this was but it’s been in my head for a looong time and i figured i might as well put it out here if i wasn’t going to do anything else with it. lmk what you thought!! if you want to leave a comment and/or kudos it would be much appreciated :) (also, here's my [twitter](https://twitter.com/xandrillia))


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